


the peculiar pendant

by idk_whatsgoingon



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Hurt John Watson, M/M, Protective John, Rewrite, Sherlock Being Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29463063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idk_whatsgoingon/pseuds/idk_whatsgoingon
Summary: rewrite of season 3 episode one cause I didn't really like how they wrote it--on the second aniversarry of Sherlock's death, john watson is visiting his former best friends grave, he doesn't expect the person he sees there,,the baker street boys must discover why so many people are disappearing, all from the same town and reignite their loving friendship again--
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	the peculiar pendant

**Author's Note:**

> hiii -- I'm obsessed with johnlock at the moment so don't you worry about that-- sherlock will still be asexual but he can still have romantic feelings towards john- hope you enjoy 
> 
> ezra <3

,,,,,,,

john stood in the middle of a cafe, the same cafe in which he had shared so many drinks and dinners with his late housemate, a tear traces his cheek, catching in the light stubble forming around his chin. today, the anniversary of the worst thing that ever happened to him, the fall of the greatest detective of all times, the greatest man, the best man, and the breaking of a heart.

he stood, with his arms hugging his stomach and eyes filled with tears and his shaking body only just holding up against the overthrowing thoughts of sinking to the ground. he knew what would happen today, the floats, the celebration, the cameras, 

and he knew that he'd have to visit it, the gravestone of his dearest friend, the doors of the cemetery were locked so that only close friends of the great detective could mourn him.

he left the cafe, without ordering a single thing, without saying goodbye to the seats where he had sat, on his first case with the detective.

he ordered a taxi, it was so quiet, so alone, he longed for the annoying voice of the detective to be deducing his breakfast from the empty seat next to him,

his feet felt like they were concrete and his head like it were underwater, as he approached the iron gates. he could already see the grave, but he kept his eyes away from it.

he could feel the hot tears on his lips now, and he could feel the eyes on the back of his head, he never really was alone, he wanted to believe it was sherlock holmes watching him from above, but he never really did believe in that stuff.

he sat by the dark stone and whispered, "hey, uh, it's the same time of year again, and God, I miss you," he put his heavy head in his hands, sobs softly leaving his hoarse throat, his eyes blinking as fast as he could breathe,

"please, please just come back, please," he sunk further down to his knees, choking loudly on his tears, hugging his knees to his chest, 

"this is so stupid, I can't bring you back, but I want to," he traced the letters of the gravestone, sherlock holmes, loved by many

he pushed himself back upwards, eyes still fixed on the gravestone, so that he didn't notice the man stood on the other side, "I miss you so bad"

he heard the voice before seeing the face, "I miss you too" it said, a deep voice, an unmistakable whisper, he looked directly into the face of his beautiful friend, "where were you, how are you? god, I'm hallucinating again, you can't be-" the man infront of him leant out towards his shoulder,

"john"he whispered

the shorter man scrunched his hands into fists, then releasing the tension with a sigh, "why didn't you-" Sherlock's face was doll-like perfect and still but kindly, he looked tired. 

looking down towards his shoes he said another sentence, "I couldn't"  
his eyes scanned the dark haired pixie boy, his eyes still watery, stinging, his face blushed and his hands loosely by his sides, he was shaking, 

john met his eyes again, voice husky with sobs "come back" he said, sobbing still,

sherlock walked around his own grave, far from possible, arms reaching for him, john flinched as sherlock embraced the smaller man, the man who was shaking, the hug was warm, pure and kind Sherlock's face was buried in light brown hair, it smelt like home, and love, he choked on a sob as he spoke into the other man's head  
"I can't," he said, quietly, 

john pulled back from the hug, and sherlock released him reluctantly, he never wanted to stop holding john again, 

johns slight smile broke at the words, he stood there, within a metre, so close to Sherlock's pretty eyes, and took a broken breathe, a fragile almost destroyed breathe,

"tell me what you said, repeat it to me," he muttered, under his breath, frustration but more so disbelief. resting his hands on his lap, he looked back into the pools of petal green ocean, they lay still, completely focused, eyes unmoving, unthinking.

sherlock admired the steadiness in thoughts that he himself, did not posess.

then John's eyebrow twitched to the left, a sign of anger, no? fear. the man he had leant on for the little of emotional support he had ever needed wasn't okay, but how could he help?

equations floated in his eye-line, brain speeding up, his throat felt rough, like he had been drinking glue, stuck together, unable to speak. his mind giving way almost as quickly as his hands, shaking hands, not a usual symptom he experienced when under pressure.

so the cause was emotional, he would normally find that gross, but it was john, he felt, sad?. words flew in and out of sight, his brain was fast flowing, a river of memories thoughts, jumbled but always needed for every occasion. yet john, so simple, easy to unpick, but unpicking John had not been the most boring of people to unpick sherlock holmes had met.

john was kind, sarcastic, smart, but not witty, not mean, not boastful, in fact the exact opposite. John was at the end of every self depreciating joke, he was the one who was so good to sherlock, but was also the breaking of him.

his eyes burned, they felt wet and hot, tears streaming down his face and cheeks, he raised a dark cuff to his face a swiped the droplets away, "I, can't," he said, flattening his coat, looking away from john's dark eyes. the drug like affect which would surely follow after, once the eyes connected their vison, and sherlock didn't feel like being soppy.

"you won't," 

sherlock was shook from his angsty thoughts and he mistakenly looked up, directly into the soft honey brown eyes, and an unsleeping, troubled and down right unfortunate story that was behind them. "no, if I could-" he was cut off,

he always was picky and unhappy when others were to interrupt him, but it was different with his companion, for some reason sherlock longed for him to speak again, 

johns hands became restless, rubbing at the already frayed hem of his jumper, the colour suited him, why was he thinking about that now, it was a sure contrast with the dark brooding colours of himself.

johns eyes began to move, searching the graveyard for something then landing back in the mousetrap of the other man's pretty eyes, "if you couldn't, you wouldn't have came," sherlock admired his wit, obviously not as great as his own, yet a slight few tiers above the other boredoms of humanity, true humanity.

john looked down at his feet, then back to the face, framed by slightly longer and darker curly hair, why did john suddenly feel condemned to hug him back, cry with him, he resisted, "why are you here sherlock? with me, after 2 God damned years!"

a flinch in the hands of his companion, let Sherlock's fingers mirror the other's, attention, attention? a gulped down choke of a sob, it was loud, but quiet enough for John to be unknowing. 2 years, had it been that long? he had beaten himself up about it, from inside out, yet it had gone by in an instant. 

sherlock had never felt that they had truly disconnected in their friend-ship. that could have been the fact that sherlock was sure of his friends status as living and also the endless hours of speaking in his mind palace. 

was john that able to let go, of everything that had happened between them, sherlock had most definitely seen the look in the dark, doll eyes, he knew every inch of john, every thought that had ever appeared in his head, "sherlock? are you okay?" the tapping of a posh, leather shoes against the wooden floor had aggravated john, 

sherlock had to agree with his annoyance, even though the cause was him, he barely ever noticed himself doing it, "fine," john looked at him again, eyeing his whole body, he wondered what sherlock was thinking, whether it was the same as him, 

"no,"

sherlock looked right back into the dark eyes and watched them skit around the graveyard, where he had watched his funeral happen 2 years ago, exactly "pardon?" he asked, confused by the sudden defiance of john watson, the man, john, walked closer to sherlock, squinting his eyes, "I can tell you aren't, what's wrong?" 

sherlock stared blankly, trying to figure out how to avoid another confrontation, he wasn't okay, but it what way was that john's business, "nothing, john", john frowned looking away from him again, 

biting his lip, john put his small hands in his trouser pockets, nodding his head angrily and shaking slightly, he raised his eyebrows slightly and looked at sherlock directly, "wrong," he muttered, under his breath, rolling his eyes, squinting his eyes again and getting even closer to the other, 

until he was looking right upwards at sherlock, "what," he said, giving his a confused expression, to which john laughed, smiling stiffly, a thin smirk on his face, 

he was stood, head directly beneath Sherlock's, eyes meeting eyes, smaller fists grabbed onto Sherlock's coat, "the answer was everything sherlock, EVERYTHING'S WRONG!" he screamed, unaware of a slight gathering of people outside of the gate,

his sea-glass eyes, shook and we're flooded with tears, that spilled onto his rosy cheeks, his hands shaking slightly, and lower lip trembling, he walked slightly forward, catching john of guard slightly who shuffled uncomfortably backwards, "what do you want me to say?" 

john frowned, pushing him backwards, angrily  
pressing his chest away from his own, "you can't say anything, to apologise for leaving me behind" sherlock tried to say something. else but was met with a finger to his lips, "be quiet" he said eyes wandering, then fixing on the dark curls,

"you weren't here," he affirmed under his breath biting the inside of his cheek and looking away from him again, sherlock had nothing to say, he couldn't think, emotions weren't really his thing, he wished that he could have been there,

completed a friendship, more than a friendship, he wanted to hold john's hand and hug him, and have one room for both of them, "I couldn't," he whispered, waiting for John to leave as his back turned, sherlock looked up and down his body, his limp had returned, 

that was slightly funny to sherlock, it seemed that the only remedy for it was him, his thoughts were so loud that he was caught off guard by another angry shout from the other,

"WHY NOT?!" john cried, grabbing for sherlock again, his eyes were red and wet, the bags under his eyes looked like painful bruises, reminders of the trauma he had to endure every time he closed his eyes, 

sherlock found it so hard to say, spitting it out slightly and then shrugging tearfully and turning his back to leave, "I just, I don't know" 

john pulled for him to come back, making sherlock trip, and land on the floor, john above him slightly, and his head slightly airy, "sherlock?" he was upside down in Sherlock's vision, oh how much did sherlock want to confess his love, "john watson" he whispered softly his mouth corners lifting up into a smile,

**Author's Note:**

> please check out my other stories :) hopefully I'll continue updating this once a week / every fortnight <3


End file.
